no poetry in love (no heart to break)
by me malum
Summary: "You're in love with my brother." The angel's face goes completely blank. Sam takes a deep breath and continues. "And it's going to kill you." Unrequited Cas/Dean.


The depression train trundles on. Nah, I've wanted to write something with this song for _years_. And Dean. And Cas. Because I think 'Break Your Heart' by Taio Cruz ft. Ludacris fits them extremely well.

Set mid season 5. Loose spoilers for 4.21-5.04 (I think; been a while since I've watched them). And for something about Dean and Cas, there is a lack of Dean actually in this fic, hence the character tags.

**Disclaimer_- _**heh, I wish.

* * *

Sam enters the motel room to find Castiel sitting on Dean's bed with his eyes closed. Dean himself is nowhere to be seen, but his jacket and the keys to the Impala were missing. Sam deduces that Dean has gone for the night, to a bar or a whorehouse (it doesn't make a difference; he'll go to both for the same reason).

What he wonders is why Castiel stayed.

"Cas?" He approaches the bed cautiously, not wanting to startle the angel.

"Sam." It's only an acknowledgement; Castiel still has his eyes closed.

"What are you doing here?"

At that, Castiel looks up at him. "Would you rather I left?" he asks, and Sam is then scrambling for words to assure the angel that his company is not unwelcome.

With them both settled down, he rephrases his question. "Dean's gone for the night," he points out. "Why didn't you go with him?"

Sam _swears_ he sees a smile lingering in the curve of Castiel's mouth. "The last time Dean took me to a den of iniquity," he explains, "It did not end well."

Wait, _what_? "Dean took you to a brothel?" And yet somewhere inside, Sam is not surprised.

Castiel shrugged. "He seemed to think I would enjoy the experience. When I reached out to the souls around me, however, they did not react... favourably."

Sam is still not surprised. But he takes advantage of the rare occasion that is just him and Cas together, deciding to have the necessary conversation now rather than putting it off for never.

"Cas..." Sam trails off, because he does not know where to start.

There is a _definitely_ a small smile on Castiel's face now. "Sam," he replies, voice monotone but eyes mischievous.

Sam wishes he doesn't have to say this, and it wipes any amusement from Castiel's expression. "You're in love with my brother."

The angel's face goes completely blank.

Sam takes a deep breath and continues. "And it's going to kill you."

Still blank, Castiel disagrees. "Only another angel can kill an angel."

Sam snorts. "We know that's not true, don't we? I don't care what lore is written on it; an angel blade works whether the wielder is mortal or _other_." He says 'other' in a bid to be tactful. He doesn't know if angels are actually immortal, or if they just age at an incredibly slow rate. He realises that thinking about the possibilities is getting him sidetracked, and tries to refocus.

"Maybe not literally," he adds when Castiel stays silent. "But metaphorically, and in every other sense that counts, loving Dean can only kill you."

Castiel's impression of a stone finally breaks, real emotion coming through. "I'm going to fall because of him," he admits softly. "I'm cut off from Heaven; I cannot regain my grace. Yet if it is in my remaining power, I will grant him whatever he asks for."

"Why?" Sam wonders suddenly, because he's honestly curious. He knows his brother as well as anyone can say, and had they not grown up together, he would find little to love in the other man. "Why are you so..." his hand gestures uselessly, "...about him?"

Castiel is silent for so long, Sam doesn't think he's going to answer. Then, softer still, he speaks.

"I cradled Dean's soul in my grace. I took him from a dark place that he did not deserve to be in, and he tried to make me take anybody else instead. He sees things as good or evil only, and I know then that I am doing good because he thinks it so; because my father resurrected me to help you both on your chosen path, doing what _you_ think is right. Dean has no belief and little faith, but he has trust. And he trusts me. He asks me for help when before he has borne everything himself. He reminds me of what humanity is meant to be- free to _choose_. My father didn't create your race to be good or evil; it wasn't the same as he created us or Lucifer created his demons. He made humanity to balance, and for me, Dean is that balance."

Sam is the silent one now, worrying over Castiel's words. It sounds like the angel has put all of his displaced faith in _Dean_, which can only be a recipe for disaster. He had half-expected that, starting this conversation. But the earnest, painful sincerity in every syllable Castiel spoke tells Sam that, well meaning as his intentions are, they are also worthless. Because Castiel has made Dean the centre of his new world, and trying to change that, he realises, would be harder than trying to change the Earth's orbiting the Sun.

So finally, Sam reaches out to touch Cas's shoulder. "He will never love you back," he says slowly. "He will take without wondering why you're so willing to give, and if he does work it out, he will take anyway because he needs every resource we can find at this point." He squeezes the angel's shoulder. "But he will never thank you, and he will never love you in return."

"He stabbed me in the heart when he first saw me," Castiel says abruptly. "I didn't know humanity like I do now, and I thought it merely annoying. Now though..."

Sam sees where Cas is going with this. Despite himself, he smiles. "It's poetic, almost." Like Romeo and Juliet, except Dean won't kill himself over Cas. Sam has no doubts that Dean would mourn if the angel died, but it wouldn't destroy him.

(Not like Sam himself dying would. Sam knows that he has stolen his brother's heart, and he has ruined it for anyone else with his betrayals. There is nothing left for Dean to give to anyone else, because everything good in it was destroyed when Sam walked out of the motel room and left Dean bleeding on the floor. Dean hasn't got enough faith left to fall in love with someone.)

"I do not understand poetry," Castiel says, matter of fact. Then, quieter, "I do not fully understand why, myself. I just know that I do, and that it will not fade even as my grace declines."

If Castiel were human, Sam would tell him that Dean would only break his heart, and that Cas should move on _now_, before the worst happened.

He knows Castiel won't move on, but he doesn't know how to adequately explain heartbreak to somebody who can't tell they're already in pain.

"He'll be with someone tonight." Sam wants Castiel to know the full extent of his suffering, if suffering is all he can do. "He'll go home with her, and he won't think of you during any of it."

But Castiel's smile reappears at that truth. "And he will sleep with a knife under her pillow, not trusting that he won't be woken up needing to use it."

Sam realises that it comes back to faith. "Trusting you isn't the same as loving you," he says.

The smile turns mirthless. "It's the closest he'll ever come to it."

And Sam finds he can't disagree with that. He squeezes Castiel's shoulder again, and nods. "And that's enough?" He says rhetorically.

Angels have no understanding of rhetoric, either.

"It's all he wants to give. I won't ask him for any more than that."

Sam looks at Castiel, and thinks that no human could love another like that. Then Sam looks at Castiel, and imagines what this angel would do if Dean asked it of him, and he thinks, _Thank God_.


End file.
